Thorns on a rose
by Psychodahlia
Summary: An illicit affair in the office leads to complications, hurt feelings and bitterness. The fifth chapter has arrived.
1. Default Chapter

Commissioner Berkley Rose leaned against his rather fluffy pillow and read his book, completely ignoring the naked man beside him. That is, until the naked man lit up a cigarette.

"I told you not to smoke in bed." He formerly stated, not looking up from 'The Scarlet Letter'.

Drake sighed. "You also told me not to smoke anywhere near your damn plants, in the bathroom, the kitchen, or the living room."

"I'm glad you were listening. Now obey." This time Rose spared him a brief glance.

"Then where am I supposed to smoke?" Drake yelled.

"Lower your voice, Parker. And you're not."

"…."

Rose kept reading, completely unaware of the other man's glare, until he felt something poking his side.

Again.

"Parker, stop it."

And again.

"Stop. Now."

And again.

Rose sighed and pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What exactly do you think poking me will accomplish?"

Drake paused to think. "I'm hoping it will remind you that I went with you to the boring opera, bought you a glass of wine, and let you be on top."

Rose twitched. "You didn't 'let' me be on top! I had to get out the handcuffs!"

"All the same you can at least let me enjoy a cigarette."

"No."

Poke. Smack.

"Ow!" Drake rubbed his head. "That hurt!"

The commissioner set his book down, completely aware he wasn't going to finish the chapter that morning anyway. "I must wonder if Detective McLean has to suffer this."

"Ryo's fine. It's you who'll be without a fuck-toy if you smack me again." Drake threatened.

Berkley Rose blinked and turned to face him. "Fuck-toy? Is that what you are?"

"Given that I'm in an illicit homosexual relationship with my superior officer in which neither of us has feelings for the other and we're really just using each other as a cheaper alternative to prostitutes I'd call myself a fuck-toy."

Rose arched a slender eyebrow. "You're not as dumb as you look, Parker."

"Gee, thanks."

"Put out the cigarette."

"No." Rose raised his hand threateningly. "Fine. God, and we just solved a case involving domestic abuse too!"

"Discipline isn't abuse." Berkley got up and retrieved his plain, black boxers from where they were neatly folded on his lounge chair.

"Spanking is discipline. Hitting is abuse." Drake argued, sitting up to look for his own boxers. By the time he found them, Rose was completely dressed in loose, casual black slacks and a dark blue cotton shirt. "Hey!"

"What is it?"

"Did you hear me?"

Berkley silently counted to ten. "Fine. Next time you smoke in my apartment I'll find my leather belt."

Drake found his jeans and began searching for his shirt. "Next time? You mean this wasn't a month-long stand?"

Berkley slipped on his shoes and paused. "Let's be blunt. I know I'm just replacement sex for Sandy or Mandy or whatever her name was. Likewise, you know you're just replacement sex for Ryo."

Drake nodded and pulled the nondescript, light blue t-shirt over his head. "Yeah."

"So it doesn't make sense for either of us to get emotionally involved in this."

"Ok. Works for me."

"Nor is there any reason for this to affect our professional lives."

"I can see it now: 'Hey, everybody! Remember how the commissioner got blown off by Ryo? Remember how Candy dumped me? Well, purely by chance we both got drunk at the same bar and ended up going back to his apartment, thus starting a really lousy affair in which I can't smoke. Is everyone ok with me screwing my chain of command?' Yeah, that'd go over real well, Commissioner."

"Don't get smart." Rose warned. "There is no reason for this affect our professional lives or for us to get emotionally involved."

Drake took one last drag of his cigarette before standing up and going to the bathroom to flush it. The commissioner did not smoke and thus didn't posses any ashtrays. "Ok…so we'll just keep using each other for meaningless albeit good sex." The detective rubbed the back of his neck.

Berkley didn't answer that. Instead he grabbed his knee-length, wool coat and left. "Lock the door when you leave."

Drake fought back the urge to pick up the nearby potted tulip and chuck it at its caregiver. But when the apartment door clicked shut he simply grabbed a half-finished beer left over from the night before and downed it. When he left, five minutes later, he decided to piss off Berkley and not lock the door.

Author's notes- Well that was depressing. Now, before the flames start burning down my house let me explain. I have not yet seen 'Like Like Love', the epilogue to Fake. I do not know where to find it, hence it will completely ignored for the duration of this li'l ole

fanfic.

There will be a back story on Drake's break-up with Candy. And I will go further into depth on what these two are doing with each other.

Fake and all its characters belong to the creator.


	2. Chapter 2

Berkley briskly stomped past the vendors on the street, barely sparing them a glance. It was one of the things he hated about New York; everybody was always trying to sell him useless junk. Right then, he didn't feel like being accosted.

The little restaurant was buzzing with people and he had to wait for a table. Another annoyance. The damn city was full of them. Berkley hated New York City. Hated it even more since the two people who would have made living there bearable were out of his reach.

He finally got a table and ordered a fillet mignon with broccoli and mashed potatoes. Red wine to go with it please. Leave the bottle. The waitress dressed in a trendy little black dress and a starched white apron smiled. She wasn't pretty. Berkley sipped his wine and listened to the soft chamber music coming from the overhead. Diana didn't like chamber music. She liked classic rock.

Ryo liked classical music. And opera. He was able to appreciate the music, the sets, the emotions. Able to appreciate all that instead of slouching down in the seat and waiting for the cool fight scenes.

Diana liked dancing. Swaying her hips to the beat of the music, moshing sometimes with her blond hair swishing around her head and shoulders. Ryo could do that too, occasionally. He'd blush though, and was more comfortable with a waltz. Even if he didn't lead.

Dinner appeared and as he slowly chewed the meat, barely tasting it, Berkley gave several inward sighs. Two different people he had loved. Opposite ends of the spectrum, but still beautiful, still desirable. Still perfect.

That perfection was what had destroyed his relationship with Diana.

"What do you expect? What do you want?"

"That you be better than this!"

"We're not exclusive, you have no right…"

"No right? If you didn't take this seriously, you should have informed me. I was under the impression we were in an adult relationship."

"We are! I'm just not ready to rush and make this exclusive. Slow down!"

"But you are ready to rush to get drunk and have sex with some random person you met in a sleazy little bar."

"That's it. You're too much Berkley. You always do this."

"Do what?'

"This!"

In retrospect Berkley could admit he had been partly to blame. Diana Spacey needed her space and was not a woman to be pushed. Her perfection was not to be forced.

But…he had not expected her to cheat. She was not that kind of woman and that had disappointed him. The relationship had ended and she had gone back to California, leaving him upset and pathetic.

Pathetic enough to start having sex with a subordinate. Way to go Berkley. Very professional Berkley.

It wasn't the fact that Parker was his subordinate. After all, he'd done everything within reason to make Ryo his. It was just that Detective Parker wasn't what he wanted and the commissioner hated accepting anything less.

Signing the bill and giving the waitress his credit card, he decided that the whole damn thing was messed up.

The sad thing was, there wasn't much he could think to do about it. Ryo was gone and there was no hope of a relationship between the two of them. JJ had more of a chance with Ryo than Berkley did. That was a pathetic thought.

Diana…there might be hope. He knew she loved him and he loved her. If she would just learn to go at his pace and accept…

She wouldn't. The day that Diana Spacey accepted anything she didn't want would be the day hell froze over. And she didn't wanted to be the perfection he knew she was.

So, it seemed that the only thing for Berkley to do was accept things as they were.

Except that things as they were, were messy. And Commissioner Berkeley Rose hated mess.

Parker. Detective Drake Parker was a mess. A chain smoking, take-out eating, NON-FLOSSING, mess.

Not that that mattered. Mess he might be, but Parker was only a substitution. It didn't matter that the man hated to floss he was only there to provide a sexual outlet. He wasn't important, the only reason Berkley hadn't dumped him already was because getting rid of him would open the space for another person.

Another person to fuck.

Another person to distance himself from.

Another person in his already convoluted life.

Berkley ducked in the men's room of the restaurant and threw up.

Drake Parker stumbled into a grocery store and bought a six pack of the cheapest beer he could find. He paid for it with his already overburdened credit card and stumbled over to his apartment.

Checking the cat clock on his kitchen wall Drake noted that he had nine and a half hours before his next shift. Plenty of time to get drunk, mope, throw it up, take a shower and arrive at the station no more than twenty minutes late.

Popping open the first can, he sank into the second hand couch and sighed. This was the life; screwing superior, getting drunk, arriving to work late and with a hangover, getting yelled at by partner and superiors….repeat as necessary.

There just wasn't any point to doing anything else.

Author's notes- Well that ended on a high note. Don't worry, all hope is not lost for our anti-heroes. I'm sorry it took so long to get this up bet rest assured, the next chapter will probably take twice as long to write!

Doesn't that make you feel so much better?


	3. Chapter 3

The Chief glowered. "S'that all you got to say for yourself?"

"Yes sir." Drake mumbled.

"Coming in forty-five Goddamn minutes late with a fucking hangover and all you can say is you lost track of the time?" Chief slammed his fist down on his desk. "Dammit Parker!"

Drake didn't say anything.

"I dunno what's going on but it better end. I can't have a drunken detective on the streets. You got me?"

"Yes sir."

"You're on patrol. Change into uniform, you're not fit to do anything but write traffic tickets. Give the case you were working on to Dee and Ryo."

"Yes sir." Drake left the office to tell J.J. what they were doing.

Dee and Ryo were in their office having a good make out session when J.J. and Drake walked in.

"Hey my sexy god of lustiness….OH MY GOD! Ryo you man-whore!"

Dee grinned. "He is too. He's really quite flexible in bed…"

"Yeah." Drake cut him off. "Yeah that's nice. Chief wanted us to give you this case." He held out the manilla folder.

Ryo took it and looked him up and down. "Uh, Drake? Why are you guys in uniform?"

"We're on patrol." Drake said shortly.

"Why's that?" Dee asked bluntly.

J.J. twitched. "Somebody decided to come in forty-five minutes late with a hangover."

There was a rather embarrassing silence before Dee spoke up. "Wow. J.J. I didn't even smell the alcohol on your breath."

Cue spazz out. "Not me, you evil minded Greek god!" Dee held up his hands to fend off his angry love interest wannabe and Ryo turned to Drake.

"You were hung over and late? That's not good."

"Thanks for the warning." Drake muttered. "J.J.'ll fill you on the dynamics of the case. J.J., I'm going to go get a patrol car from the garage." The other three men watched him leave.

"Um…." Dee scratched his head. "Call me crazy but that just seemed kind of weird." He pushed J.J. off him.

"He's always weird now. He's always late, always drunk or hung over. It's sickening." J.J. made a face. "He doesn't talk to me any more either."

Ryo rested his chin in his hands. "It's not only that….usually he at least rolls his eyes when he sees us making out."

"Ryo, I roll my eyes when I see you making out. But that's because I know that Dee should be making out with me…"

"In your dreams, Spazz." Dee grumbled. "But yeah, Drake's no homophobe, but he's not big on PDA in the workplace. I always figured it was because he was jealous 'cuz his girlfriends were always dumping him." He propped his feet up on the desk, ignoring Ryo's glare. "Now he's like 'You could be having butt-sex on the desk and I wouldn't care.' It's weird."

Ryo sighed. "Well, let's give him some room. Being late and getting drunk is irresponsible, but it doesn't mean he's gone off the deep end."

J.J. shook his head. "Wish I could believe that. Anyway, I'll let you guys read up on the case. I gotta go write parking tickets."

The small detective arrived in the garage to find his partner leaning against the car, numerous cigarette buts littering the ground around him. "That didn't take long."

"Yeah, well it's not a tremendously difficult case. One we should be working on." J.J grumbled. "Let's go. I'm driving."

"I can drive." Drake said. "Seriously, lemme drive."

"…."

"C'mon!"

"Drake….you just got over a hang over…" J.J. started slowly.

"So what?" Drake yelled, attracting the attention of several other patrol officers. "J.J…"

"You're not fit to drive! Hell, you're not even fit to be on duty!" J.J. yelled back. There was a minute of stony silence before Drake yanked the car door open.

"Let's go."

J.J. instantly calmed down. "Drake…"

"Let's go."

It was a long and quiet shift.

Rose arched an eyebrow. "Parker, haven't you had enough?"

"No."

Rose reached over and not-so-gently guided Drake's wine glass back to the table. "You've had enough. More than actually."

Drake shrugged him off. "Fug off…I'mma take care a' myseff. I'mma God damned gownurp." A waiter glared at them and several of the restaurant's patrons whispered and stared. Rose ignored all of them.

"You're behavior is intolerable."

"Well, I'm soooo damn shorry you gotta…" Rose held up a hand to silence him.

"Shut up. Like I said, your behavior is intolerable. I have no intention of dealing with you." He stood up and beckoned the waiter. Pressing a few dollar bills in the man's hand he whispered something about a taxi. Then he left.

Drake leaned against the apartment door and slide down to the cracked tiled floor. He was reminded of the old saying 'life sucks and then you die'. He didn't believe it. Life sucked and you didn't die so it kept on sucking. Damn life.

Damn Candy. Pretty, pretty Candy.

She had been pretty too. Short, dark blond hair that was spiked more often than not. Brown eyes decorating each side of her short, button nose. She was oh so very cute.

Then she broke up with him. Something about wanting to 'find herself'. Drake had stormed out of her apartment and ended up in a little bar on the other side of Manhattan.

And who else should be frequenting that little bar but Commissioner Berkley Rose. Who, it soon was discovered, was also on the rebound.

Of all the people in the world….

Still, the two cops had ended up in Berkley's apartment, waking up naked and next to each other. Nuthin' like finding yourself a sex toy to get over a bad break up.

They had been drunk that night. Gloriously drunk. The kind of drunk where nothing matters, where you could step out in the middle of a traffic lane and get hit by a semi-automatic and everything would peachy keen the next morning. That kind of drunk.

Not the drunk that Drake was now. Now was a dirty kind of 'gonna puke my guts out in a couple of hours' drunk.

Yeah, Drake was filthy drunk. That was the one thought going through his mind as he buried his head in his knees and sobbed.

Author's note- So….that was a dark little ray of bitter sunshine. I'm sorry this took so long to post, please be forgiving. Many thanks for the reviews.

About the Chief putting Drake on duty- chances are a hung over cop would be forced to take the day off, but for the sake of the story we'll say the Chief trusted J.J. enough to keep his partner from doing anything too stupid.

About Drake's orientation- Well, we are told he has a girlfriend in the manga but he does make some comments about it being hard to pick up girls. Given that just about every other cop in the series is gay, we'll assume the lure of the slash side just got too strong. He's probably straight, but he's exploring his bi side in the wake of one break up too many.


	4. Chapter 4

Drake flipped through the file for what seemed the hundredth time that day and sighed. He and J.J. had been working on the Millet case for the past few weeks and had had no luck in a break. The man was what they had deemed a 'random rapist'. None of his victims had a common denominator and all his crime scenes were in different neighborhoods. There were long lapses in time between his rapes.

His stomach rumbled reminding him that he hadn't eaten that day. A glance at the clock on the wall told him lunch hour had come and gone. Heaving a loud sigh Drake put his head down and muttered every swear word he knew in every language he knew.

"I didn't know you knew Japanese."

Drake lifted his head to see Ryo standing in front of him holding three little white boxes. Judging from the smell they were filled with Chinese food. Looking at his fellow detective quizzically, the blond sat up and blinked.

"I don't."

Ryo set the food down and pulled some chopsticks out of his coat pocket. "But you know Japanese cuss words."

"One of my ex-girlfriends was an anime fan." Drake said flatly. "Is there something you want?"

Ryo shrugged. "I just stopped by to drop off lunch. Remember, I told you we were getting Chinese and did you want any?" He pointed to the boxes. "White rice, chicken teriyaki, and mixed vegetables."

"No…I don't remember that." Drake said quietly. "Anyways, isn't lunch break over?" He jabbed a finger at the clock

"Yeah well, what's the Chief gonna do? Fire us?" Ryo gave a short little laugh, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting across Drake's desk.

"Uh, yeah. You know you've started talking like Dee, right?"

"You know you've started sounding like Commissioner Rose, right?" Ryo gave a small smile.

Twitch twitch. "H-have I?"

"Uh-huh." Ryo nodded vigorously. "You're always serious now and you don't even joke around with J.J."

A little light bulb turned on. "You've been talking to J.J." It was a blunt statement.

Ryo knew he was busted. "Yeah…"

"I didn't ask you to pick me up any Chinese food, did I?"

"No…listen, Drake."

Drake stood up. "Later." He headed for the door. Ryo blocked him. "Ryo…"

"You have a hangover again, don't you?" Ryo bluntly stated. "That's why it's taking you forever to do your work and you're snarling at everyone! Damn it, Drake, you're turning into an alcoholic!"

"Get out of my way."

"Tell me what's wrong! Tell SOMEBODY what's wrong for the love of God." He grabbed Drake by the shoulders when the other man tried to maneuver away from him. "People don't just start drinking for no reason."

It was the grace of God that Marty chose that particular moment to burst into the room. "J.J! Drake, dudes, we got a call on the Millet case!" He paused and looked around the office. "Where's J.J.?"

Drake was already reaching for his coat. "He went out for coffee. What's going on with Millet?"

"He tried the wrong woman. She says she stabbed him in the shoulder with her pen and called us from her apartment. We just got the call and we're all heading out. If he's injured we might have a chance at catching the muthafucker." Marty jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We gotta move fast though."

Ryo whipped out his cell phone. "I'll call J.J. and tell him to meet us there."

"You're coming?" Drake asked dryly.

"Yes." Was the simple reply.

Drake noticed he was getting used to long, silent car rides.

The crime scene was filled with people, very few of them law enforcement. The neighborhood had responded to the attack rather quickly; scuttling around the apartment and generally doing everything except being useful. It was a decent sized apartment and the police were having a hard time getting everybody out. The victim was sitting on her ratty couch talking quietly to Dee and the Chief.

"I'd read the article in the paper about him." She half-whispered. "It had his picture. He has a black tooth, right?"

Drake hurried over to them. "Chief, we're here." He glanced at the victim. She was a frail, weak looking woman with thin, honey-blond hair and he found it hard to believe she had driven a pen into another human being. Behind the couch, a hand on the young woman's shoulder, stood an elderly lady. Clearly a matron of the neighborhood, she glared daggers at the cops present.

"'Bout frickin' time." Chief grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to the three newcomers. "Marty, go supervise forensics. They're extracting the blood off her carpet and I'm sure they'll mess up somehow. Ryo, go help them clear out the neighbors. Drake, Dee's already started questioning her so you just hang around and listen." They all nodded and went about their assignments.

Drake crouched by Dee and began taking duplicate notes. He listened with half an ear and the only detail he managed to lodge in his mind was that the woman had just recently gone through a divorce.

The interview was long and drawn out and at the matron's insistence the police agreed to have a guard placed on the victim. It wasn't necessary as Millet never struck twice in the same place, but the old lady had insisted and the victim, Marie Finer was her name, offered no resistance to the idea.

Drake shuffled over to the corner to use his cell on the pretence of calling his neighbors to ask them to watch his apartment. It being their case, he and J.J. (who had finally shown up) had been assigned guard duty.

"Hello?" Berkeley barked in the phone.

"Yeah, hi. I'm not gonna make it home tonight." Keep the tone neutral, don't let anyone else know you're not talking to the neighbors.

"Fine." Berkeley said shortly. "Another night then."

"So, you're okay with that?"

Long pause. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Ouch. After forcing out an "Okay, thanks!" Drake terminated the call and turned back to the crime scene. J.J. had wasted no time in 'thanking' (glomping) Dee for questioning Ms. Finer. Ms Finer was watching the scene with morbid fascination while the elderly matron looked shocked and scandalized. It looked to be a long night.

Author's note- I'm not even gonna try and explain why this took so long. Just remember that 'Fake' does not belong to me.


	5. Chapter 5

Berkley rubbed his eyes. Parker had chosen to call just when he had drifted off to sleep and it took all his willpower to keep from screaming. His only day off that week and his sleep had been interrupted. Rose flopped back onto the pillow and sighed. Sleep was now out of the question.

Would, could, should. The phone call had brought those three words to the front of his mind. Should dump Parker. Could dump Parker. Wouldn't dump Parker.

Three words that brought up a load of questions. He could dump Parker, simply because the man meant nothing to him. He was excess and Berkley rarely put up with excess. He should dump Parker because he was a subordinate and screwing subordinates was a definite no-no.

But he wouldn't dump Parker. Growling to himself, Berkley pushed himself up from the bed and lurched to the bathroom. A hot shower, a distraction, was beginning to sound good.

The hot water coursed down his back, easing his muscles but not his mind. Berkley slathered some shampoo and didn't curse when it got in his eyes. Most people were slaves to their bodies and would have taken a cold shower and cursed. Berkley was not like most people.

Stepping out of the shower, the Commissioner glanced at the clock. It was ten p.m. Outside, the city had just begun partying. He could hear the Bohemians upstairs start their wild, thumping music making coupled with the occasional stomps of the drag queen's dancing, heeled feet. He knew from experience it would be futile to ask them to keep the noise down. He also knew, again from experience, they would be partying all night.

Too many damn Bohemians in this city. And they were all noisy.

Noisy.

It had been noisy in the bar where he'd picked up Parker. They had both been on the rebound. He really shouldn't have brought the other man back to his apartment.

But then, Diana shouldn't have cheated on him. And Ryo shouldn't have chosen the uncouth animal he's with now. And what's-her-face shouldn't have broken up with Parker. However, there wasn't much to be done about any of that and it didn't make any sense to dwell on it.

Sense.

He could do what was sensible. Logical. He'd been brought up to be logical. He could make decisions that made sense and were best for all involved. He could do that; that's why he was Commissioner. He could easily dump Parker and go back on the rebound. The affair had been a mistake anyway and the only reason they kept it up was for the substitute sex and companionship.

Of course, that was also the reason Rose wouldn't dump Drake. If he was to be completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that the main reason he kept the detective around was because he was lonely.

'If' being the operative word in that sentence.

It was going to be a long, painful night. That was the one sentence that kept floating through Drake's mind as he watched J.J. paint Marie Finer's nails a vivid hot pink. The smaller detective was not often flamboyant, but when he was…Drake excused himself to get a drink of water.

The kitchen smelled like cherry pie, lasagna, and spinach casserole. The neighbors had responded quickly to the attack with an outpouring of love and food. Along with the food, it had also produced an elderly matron to stay the night. The old lady had insisted that Marie be given police protection for at least a night and had then insisted that she herself stay, because two men could not stay the night with a woman unsupervised. She had left and came back ten minutes later with a small, worn out suitcase packed with an old flannel nightgown and numerous incidentals. She was currently passed out on the couch after having spent the last hour giving J.J. strange looks.

Thank God he only had to play bodyguard for this one night. Tomorrow, it would be back to work, back to screwing the Commissioner, back to arguing with the credit card company that had called that morning. Maybe he'd pick up a six pack on the way home in the morning…

"Officer?" He almost dropped the glass at the sound of her voice. Turning around, Drake tried to hide his embarrassment at being caught day dreaming.

"Ms. Finer? Eh…heh heh, uh, what I do for you?" He was sure he was blushing. Damn. Detectives in the movies never blushed when damsels in distress talked to them.

"Um," She blushed too. "I just wanted to thank you for staying with me. I'm sure you have a family you wanted to see tonight."

"Nope! No family!" Drake forced a smile.

"A girlfriend then."

"Ah…no girlfriend." Please don't say boyfriend, please don't say boyfriend, please don't say boyfriend….

"Well, I'm sure you had something better to do than spend the night with me. So thank you." She smiled.

"No, no problem." Drake stuttered out, silently damning himself for being this uncool in front a woman. He was willing to bet what little was in his bank account that Dee never stuttered or made an idiot of himself.

Marie leaned over and kissed him.

On his mouth.

Kissed him.

Author's notes- Cliffhangers are my new best friends. Say hello to Mr. Cliffhanger. And no, Marie Finer is not a slut. She was just attacked by a serial rapist while going through a divorce. Sucks to be her so she's looking for a way to make herself feel better.

Just a note on J.J., he doesn't really act flamboyant in the series but he is hyper enough that it's easy to imagine him sitting down to do his toenails and watch 'Will & Grace'. At least to me. I dunno 'bout the rest of you.


End file.
